The Sweeping Romance of William and Charlotte
by 13-Red-Cards
Summary: Rejected and mocked by his beautiful cousins, the foolish and pompous Mr. Collins has married the old and dull Miss Lucas. The odds seem stacked against their happiness, but hope springs eternal in the world of Jane Austen.
1. Chapter 1

**I really need to _not_ keep starting new stories, but I've wanted to write this fic for quite a while, and I finally found the leisure time to get started on it! In my opinion, Charlotte and Mr. Collins never get the compassion and romance they deserve, and my goal is to remedy that. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

 **Chapter 1:**

William glanced at the plain young woman sitting beside him as they drove away from Hertfordshire, away from her family and away from his troublesome cousins. His new wife was certainly no Jane Bennet. She wasn't even Elizabeth's equal in beauty.

He could feel his neck growing red at the thought of Elizabeth's rejection. He had been so sure that she would accept him. He had presented himself as best he could, striving to exude competence, reliability, morality, and chivalry. Upon his arrival, he had waited outside Longbourne for 9 minutes, waiting until exactly 4 o'clock to knock at the door in the hopes of displaying an admirable punctuality. At the Netherfield ball, he had shown himself to be attentive and considerate. Every evening, he had read from Fordyce's sermons, proving his assiduous devotion to his duties as a clergyman.

Besides all that, marrying him was clearly best for Elizabeth's family. What other option did a young lady of no fortune have? At first, his proposal had gone completely according to plan. She had initially refused, like any elegant young woman would. But then she had _kept_ refusing, and then her sisters were all in the room, squealing with laughter at his expense, and then her mother was wailing, and then he had wanted to die of shame. Looking back, he marveled all his efforts to present himself well. The outcome would have been unchanged if he had shown up late, ignored Elizabeth, and mocked every tenet of the Christian faith.

Well. Someday he would own Longbourn, and the Bennets would be utterly awestruck to see him to repay their mockery with kindness _._ That would make them sorry for how they'd humiliated him. He would take good care of his fair cousins – did not the scriptures say, "If your enemy is hungry, feed him, for in doing so you will heap burning coals on his head"?

After Elizabeth's refusal, he had left in a huff, unsure of what to do, for he could not show his face before Lady Catherine de Bourgh without a wife. Upon his departure, she had told him quite strictly, "The next time I see you, I _insist_ you be accompanied by your new bride."

He was stomping through Meryton, enraged and embarrassed, when he encountered the good-natured Sir William Lucas. Out of courtesy, the man invited him to dine, and he accepted with alacrity, as he knew a dinner away from his cousins' smirks would do him good. Before he knew what was happening, the Lucases were shoving Charlotte at him, and with hardly a moment's thought he had decided, "I suppose she'll do."

Now, sitting beside him in the carriage, Charlotte met his gaze. She glanced away almost immediately, as though she had no desire to look upon him. William felt a twinge of hurt. Shouldn't she be grateful? He was, after all, saving her from a lifetime of spinsterhood. And whatever his cousins might think, he was not _so_ unattractive that a woman could not even look at him.

At the thought of his cousins, a comment from his least favorite of them all, that wild Lydia, resurfaced in his memory. As he and Charlotte drove away from their wedding, the girl had loudly remarked to her sisters, "I daresay they'll make the homeliest couple in all the county."

He wondered if Charlotte had heard that comment. Did it injure her as it had injured him?

* * *

As she averted her eyes from her new husband, only one thought ran through Charlotte Lucas's mind: _Lydia was right._ Of all the couples in the county, she and William Collins were without a doubt the least physically appealing.

He was short, stocky and puffy. She was two years older than him and had never been pretty, with her thin hair, rough complexion and asymmetrical features. Perhaps it was right that they should marry. Their children would probably be rather unsightly. How would they ever marry them off?

A jolt of fear and disgust ran through her at the thought of actually _producing_ children with Mr. Collins. She looked at him again and barely suppressed a shudder. Yes, this fate was better than ending up a spinster, but not by much.

She could feel his eyes upon her. She willed him not to speak, as she had no desire to listen to his blathering idiocy when she was in such a fragile state, but evidently her will was too weak, as he remarked, "You are trembling, my dear. Are you quite well?"

"Only a little fatigued from the wedding festivities," she tightly replied.

"Of course you are. What a splendid day it was! The decorations did your family credit, although I must say, they were nothing compared to the finery seen at even the most humble dinner party of my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. When last I dined with her – for she often does me honor by inviting me to dine – I observed, 'The swags above your mantel could grace the bower of Titania!' I often pay her such little compliments, as are appreciated by all members of the fairer sex, regardless of age or station." He paused and seemed to be grasping for something else to say, before observing, "I believe married life suits you already; your complexion seems much less ruddy."

Charlotte didn't know whether to laugh or cry at such a backhanded compliment. Of course her skin looked better now that she was miserable and pale and married. If she continued at this rate, she'd become a beauty to rival any of the Bennet girls within the year.

* * *

William frowned, as his speech had apparently had no effect on his bride. He had hoped to inspire some sort of enthusiasm for her new life under the patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, but Charlotte's face remained as impassive as ever. If anything, she looked more displeased. He mentally made a note to compose some special compliments for her when he had the spare time, although it would be difficult, as she had fewer points of beauty than most other women.

Her taciturnity did not worry him overly much. She would certainly grow more cheerful once they arrived at the parsonage and she assumed her role as materfamilias. No lady could fail to be impressed at the cottage, the gardens, the proximity to Rosings Park.

A new thought struck him. Perhaps she was anxious about facing Lady Catherine and being dwarfed by her majesty. She could well fear that her husband would judge her by the standards of a great lady and think less of her for her deficiencies.

"I wish to reassure you, my dear, that I will never condemn you for any of your points of inferiority to Lady Catherine or her daughter, the beautiful and elegant Lady Anne de Bourgh," he said, the words rushing out of him in his eagerness to soothe his bride's nerves. "No sensible man could expect a woman of your upbringing to compete with such exalted personages."

* * *

Charlotte merely stared at him. Her mouth opened, then closed, then her face grew blank, and at last she replied, "I had no intention of competing."

"I'm so glad to hear it; that's very sensible of you," William warmly replied.

Only two words came to Charlotte's mind as she stared incredulously at her insufferable new husband: _Sod off._


	2. Chapter 2

**The soundtrack to this chapter was Grieg's _Holberg Suite,_ which makes me feel dignified and capable of writing Regency-era dialogue. Excellent accompaniment to any writing. But at any rate, I hope you all enjoy the chapter! I especially want to thank everyone who reviewed Chapter 1: ****phyloxena , ****Nellie86 , LucilleRicardo, Ebzenka, ****hongkongphooey63 , and all the guests who chimed in, as well. I really appreciate your feedback! **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

 **Chapter 2:**

Charlotte could feel her husband's expectant eyes on her. He was clearly waiting for her to say something; his gaze kept flitting back and forth between his new bride and his beloved parsonage.

"It's charming," she said, quite truthfully.

The Hunsford Parsonage was by any measure pleasant to beyond: appropriately rustic, yet still possessed of a certain dignity. Vines grew along the side of the house, almost looking like an extension of the garden that graced the yard in front. The garden was tidy, but appeared as though no one had yet stepped forward to tend it on a regular basis. Charlotte could perhaps envision herself taking up that role. Her spirits lifted at the prospect.

Looking up, she marveled at the elegant steeple that rose above a small copse of trees. Made of honey-colored limestone, it seemed to have stood long enough that the local nature had successfully incorporated it, to the extent that the surrounding countryside would feel incomplete were the structure to suddenly vanish. Charlotte imagined an interior of dark, warm wood, with a simple pulpit, rich and heavy banners, and old family pews adorned with artfully embroidered cushions.

It was truly a fine prospect.

She turned to William and gave him a small smile, only to find to her great alarm that he was scowling. Oh, bother. Just when she was feeling more optimistic about her situation, her husband had to get inexplicably irritated.

* * *

William could not conceal his deep disappointment in Charlotte's lukewarm reaction to her new home. "Charming," indeed. Said without a trace of emotion. He almost thought she sounded sarcastic, like she was secretly mocking him. He had toiled so many hours to fashion a run-down, rotting parsonage into a home fit for a bride, making every improvement that Lady Catherine suggested, down to the shelves in the closet, and apparently the only response he would receive was, "It's charming."

Surely she could not be insensible to the beauty and comfort before her. The only conceivable explanation was that her limited rural upbringing had dulled her tastes. He would have to enlighten her.

"As you can see, the garden has been laid out for maximum convenience," he announced, so suddenly and so loudly that Charlotte jumped a little. "You could perhaps plant tomatoes in this corner, or cucumbers, if that's what you prefer, or a little bed of carrots over here…" He hopped from one side of the garden to the other, striving to draw Charlotte's attention to its felicitous arrangement.

"Yes, I will surely plant many things here," she flatly replied.

Hm. Still very little enthusiasm. "Come, let's go within!" he said, drawing her arm to him and leading her to the black painted door set smack in the middle of the structure's stone exterior.

"Even better inside, is it not?" he prompted her as they crossed the threshold and she beheld the newly washed hallway. Four rooms flanked the hallway, two on each side, and a steep staircase directly in front of the door led upwards to the second floor.

"Quite tidy," Charlotte remarked, driving William to immense internal lamentation.

"Immediately to the right is my study," he said, pulling her along so that she could see inside a small, cluttered room filled to bursting with papers and books and old inkwells, redolent of parchment and perhaps a little sweat (as William often became quite agitated while composing his sermons).

"A fine place for your labors."

Still not sufficiently impressed. Well, there was still the rest of the tour.

"The parlor is directly across the hall, and the dining room right beside it – the kitchen is through the dining, an excellent structure attached the back of the house, more than large enough for anyone's use, I daresay, except perhaps one as elevated at the Lady Catherine de Bourgh…" He trailed off, hoping in vain for a response. "Come, my dear – we ascend!"

* * *

Charlotte found herself breathless by the time they reached the top of the staircase. She could not fathom what had come over her husband, whose scowl had seemingly exploded into manic energy. Yes, the house was quite fine, but must he be _so_ eager? When they arrived, she was already exhausted from their journey, and she simply did not have the strength to match William's antics.

"Here is our bedroom," he said, drawing her to the room at the top left corner of the house. Charlotte was not sure she quite liked the look he gave her as they peered within the chamber. It contained two chests, a mirror, two nightstands, and a sturdy four-poster bed, with white draperies and a pale blue coverlet, which seemed rather feminine and which Charlotte guessed had been purchased in anticipation of the impending arrival of a female presence.

Fortunately, the odd look on his face vanished when he whisked her out of the room. "Across from us is the guest bedroom, and, um, next to it another bedroom, as I didn't quite know what else to do with it, and beside the master bedroom we have a very pleasant dressing room, which you may find helpful – you will especially like the shelves in the closet, for they are exceedingly useful, installed by the special recommendation of Lady Catherine herself!"

The flow of words stopped rather suddenly. For a few moments all was silent, as Charlotte was rather stunned by the unrelenting energy that had just swept her away. At last, she found the voice to say, "A truly impressive abode."

Another pause. For heaven's sake, why did he look so crestfallen? She would pepper him with eager questions if she could, but that was not in her nature, and she could not force it without sounding extremely peculiar.

One question did come to mind, and she hastened to say, "There was a room downstairs that we did not enter. Pray tell what is its purpose?"

William seemed to brighten slightly. How excellent. "Yes, I was saving it for last," he said as they descended the staircase, which was rather creaky, "and I think you'll be most pleased."

They turned at the bottom of the stairs, and he ushered Charlotte into a room that seemed infinitely brighter and more airy than any chamber she had yet seen. It seemed that it had one more window than the other rooms. What a difference it made.

"As you can see, the room is somewhat sparsely furnished. I thought you might like to decorate it yourself, as part of your womanly takeover of the household," William was saying, though Charlotte was not quite listening. She was instead smiling out the window, which afforded a capital view of the surrounding fields.

"It is quite lovely," she finally said, turning around. "But what is it for?"

William blinked a few times before replying, "Why, for your personal use! I have been told many times that while a woman must submit to her husband in most realms – even to the running of the household, should their opinions diverge – there should be at least one corner of the home where she holds complete sway and where her word goes completely unchallenged. A kingdom in miniature, you might say."

"How wonderful!" Charlotte exclaimed, immensely pleased at this turn of events and the thoughtfulness behind the gesture. But when she turned to William and saw that he was looking extremely self-satisfied, she felt a surge of annoyance. So this was what he had been waiting for. He wanted her to grovel before him.

A little spitefully, she dropped her voice and said, "I'm sure it will be a great refuge from domestic life."

She felt sorry as soon as her husband's face fell.

* * *

William was not entirely sure if Charlotte's words were an insult, but the tone of her speech was unpromising. And she had seemed so enthusiastic over her little parlor! He had thought that at last his efforts to please her had hit their mark. Either he had made a grave miscalculation of the desires of women (but that was not likely, as Lady Catherine had advised him), or the stupid girl's experience was so limited that she would never appreciate her good fortune (much more probable).

At any rate, he simply couldn't allow her to have the last word. Drawing himself up, he slowly said, "When you have lived longer in this country, I trust your tastes will be much improved."

They did not leave that room as friends.

 **Aaand that's it. Please let me know what you think! I'd love to hear any comments, critiques, or suggestions.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Guys, I'm having so much fun writing this fic. It's an absolute blast. I hope you all enjoy this next chapter, and I really want to thank everyone who reviewed the previous one: hongkongphooey63, Sooty85, TheOtherMissOgden, LucilleRicardo, austenfan1, Happywife, and the guest reviewers. You guys are the best!  
**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

 **Chapter 3:**

Charlotte awoke the next morning to find that her husband had already risen; she could hear him pattering about the downstairs. As she stood, she felt a slight soreness between her legs. This was not unexpected, for she had performed her wifely duties the night before. Now she and William were truly wed.

She had always expected the first night of marriage to be momentous and life-changing, and she had regarded it with anxiety bordering on terror, but in fact the evening had been perfectly fine. Uneventful, even. That is, an event _had_ occurred, but it had been only a little painful, and William had been only a little unappealing when he proposed that they consummate their union, and afterwards he had thanked her quite politely, rolled over, and promptly fallen asleep. Not long after, she herself had followed suit. The entire experience was hardly the excruciating trial that her mother had predicted it would be, and the possibility of conceiving a child made it even more endurable. Perhaps some day she might enjoy it; her mother had said that that often happened after one grew accustomed to the act.

Now, stretching her arms, she approached the window and peered out at the surrounding countryside. It was truly beautiful. Not breathtaking, but comfortable. Rolling hills and shady groves rather than dramatic cliffs and towering pines. Perhaps she would take a look at the garden today.

She smiled. Elizabeth had judged her so harshly for marrying William Collins – she had seemed to think that Charlotte would never find happiness. Well, maybe Charlotte would never achieve the bliss that Elizabeth was apparently seeking, but she at least would find contentment, and even happiness did not seem so far away as she gazed out the window of her new home.

* * *

Downstairs in his study, William was in a foul mood. He was not angry – that is, he was not angry with Charlotte. He was rather engulfed in a miasma of self-loathing that had tormented him from the moment he rolled away from his wife the night before.

His father had very rarely been lucid enough to carry a conversation, much less offer coherent advice, but on one occasion he had suddenly decided that his son needed his wisdom. Summoning William (then only eleven years old), the senior Mr. Collins had launched into an extensive speech about his son's maturation and the intimate experiences that would soon come his way.

Horrified, young William had tried to forget the lecture as soon as it ended, but he couldn't help but retain some memory of his father's words. The advice that stuck most in his memory was old Mr. Collins' parting injunction: "Remember, my boy: You must please your woman!"

And William knew that he had not made much effort to "please his woman" (what a crude phrasing) the night before.

His shame was intense. He had ignored the only advice he ever received from his father, and whether she knew it or not, he had treated his new bride poorly. He hadn't _intended_ to do so, and to be quite honest, he didn't have any real idea of what would please his wife... but still. When they retired to bed he was so frustrated, and she seemed so tired, that he figured they should just get things over with as quickly as possible.

So he had turned to Charlotte and said rather unenthusiastically, "I suppose it is now incumbent upon us to perform our marital duties." He had always hoped that his first night of marriage would be transcendently blissful, but it pleased the Lord to arrange things otherwise.

She had replied simply, "Yes, I believe it is."

And then in the end it felt fantastic for him, and it didn't seem like it felt particularly excellent for Charlotte, and this state of affairs rankled him terribly. At the present moment, it was grievously interfering with the composition of that week's sermon.

He had intended to write a homily regarding daily Christian life. "Christianity and Domesticity" was his working title. The composition was going rather poorly. Despite his best efforts, he could not commit a single word to paper. He had many things to say, but all felt exceedingly hypocritical after the night before.

"Any household that intends to honor the commands of the Triune God must put aside anger and resentment." He had been very resentful after Charlotte failed to appreciate his efforts to improve their home.

"Above all, the Christian home must expunge all selfishness from its doors." Had he not behaved selfishly with his wife the night before?

Lost in his angst, he actually jumped at the sound of his wife's voice quietly greeting him.

"Good morning," she said, standing at the entrance of his study. She wore a green cotton muslin (which did not suit her complexion at all), and she seemed much more rested than the day before.

"Good morning, my dear," William hastily replied, trying to compose himself and hiding his flushed face by scrabbling about for some papers on the floor. "I trust you slept well?" Should he apologize to her for the night before? No, probably not.

"Quite well, thank you," she said. A brief hesitation, before asking, "And what are you doing?"

"Ah, well, I am attempting to compose this week's homily, but thus far my attempts have been in vain. I am not in a felicitous frame of mind for sermon-writing."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

She was a rather quiet thing, wasn't she? That was perhaps for the best. Before William left to visit his cousins, Lady Catherine had advised him to select a demure, placid woman as his bride. According to that most esteemed lady, energetic women made for poor wives.

A sudden clattering from outdoors startled both him and Charlotte, and they turned to the window as one: Charlotte frowning in confusion, and William grinning like a lunatic.

"The emissary of my esteemed patroness," he breathed, before hauling Charlotte towards the door.

* * *

 _Already?_ Charlotte thought in considerable alarm. She had hoped she'd have at least a few days to settle in before facing Lady Catherine or anyone connected with her. Yet here was her servant, standing at the door, bowing to William, suggesting they come for dinner that very evening, and yes, it was very short notice, but Lady Catherine wanted to inspect the new Mrs. Collins as soon as possible, and she expected them to be very prompt, thank you, good day.

Charlotte didn't quite know how to feel until her husband turned to her and said, "Don't fret about your provincial attire; Lady Catherine never spurns the humble and lowly." Then she felt rather annoyed.

As the day went on, that annoyance faded into an anxiety that beset her at every turn. Later that morning, meeting her two new servants (who had arrived in the night, as Mr. Collins had returned two days sooner than expected, and they were not prepared to return to work quite so immediately), her anxiety rendered her so flustered that she forgot their names as soon as they introduced themselves.

She later asked William to remind her of their names, and after an incredulous "Can you not remember _two_ names?" he informed her that the cook was named Amelia and the housemaid, Jane.

She was almost shaking as she dressed herself for dinner, having rejected poor Jane's assistance. "Be sensible," she chided herself, glaring at her reflection in the mirror. But alas, she knew that her fear _was_ sensible. It was entirely sensible to experience anxiety before meeting a person who could tear apart her life if she so pleased.

"My dear, are you ready?" Mr. Collins called from the downstairs. He had been waiting at the door for half an hour, so great was his eagerness to see his patroness.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming," she huffed, stomping down the staircase. "Shall we away?"

It was only a short distance to the renowned Rosings Park, and thus the Collinses chose to walk. Charlotte would have liked to quietly take in her surroundings as they pattered down the wooded lane that led away from the parsonage, but William had other ideas. He insisted on filling every single moment of their walk with constant, unceasing, unremitting prattle:

"I have on many occasions counted the windows on the front of Rosings Park, for they are numerous. The count stands at 22 – that's the number of windows that face exactly forward, though there are 8 more on the front portion of Lady Catherine's abode that are angled more to the side, as they are placed on the side portion of the two wings of the house, which come outwards a little bit from the main body of the exalted structure. But you need not rely solely on my count, my dear – you can count for yourself when we approach. Lady Catherine has informed me that there are 64 windows in total, counting both sides and the back, in addition to the front. What a vast kingdom she possesses!

"With all those windows, as well as its many other graces, such as its tremendous chimney piece, the entire house cost a king's fortune. I have it on good authority that the glazing alone cost in excess of six hundred pounds! Of course, such an expense was nothing for Sir Lewis de Bourgh and his prodigious wealth, which has been passed down now to my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who has treated me and by extension you very kindly.

"Now, be not alarmed when you encounter Lady Catherine and her daughter, Anne. Although their illustrious birth and dignity might make certain meaner minds uneasy, their elegance and grace is such that they would never reject or condemen a truly humble visitor, and least of all the bride of one such as me, upon whom they have already showered such a remarkable bounty.

"Ah! We have arrived!"

Charlotte had not been listening to her husband for at least the past 10 minutes, but she did catch his final exclamation. It would have been difficult not to, as his words were accompanied by crazy gesticulations and agitated pointing in the direction of a very large building that could only be the famed Rosings Park.

"What a handsome building," Charlotte said, hoping that she sounded enthusiastic enough. She vaguely wondered if it was a bad thing that she had already learned to ignore her husband's longwinded speeches.

"Isn't it?" William eagerly agreed. "Look up at the chimney! Or rather, the chimneys, for there are several."

Charlotte found it difficult not to roll her eyes. Yet despite her exasperation with her husband's slobbering adoration of a mere house, she was indeed impressed, and she felt some of her earlier anxiety creep back into her consciousness.

Towards the door they walked. Into the entryway. Through the halls, following the footman who admitted them (and who was most certainly better-dressed than they were). Through an elegant doorway (where Mr. Collins felt compelled to praise the craftsmanship of the molding). And there they were, before Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her daughter, Anne.

* * *

As he bowed nearly the floor, William glanced anxiously between his wife and his esteemed patroness. This meeting was the most important meeting of all meetings that ever had been, were, or would be, and it _needed_ to go well.

"Pick yourself up, Mr Collins," Lady Catherine commanded him, and he straightened up immediately, marveling at the humility that led her to dismiss his obeisance so quickly.

"Your ladyship, I present to you my wife, Mrs. Charlotte Collins, whom I selected in Hertfordshire, assiduously endeavoring to follow all your prescriptions and…"

"Yes, yes, all as it should be," the grand lady interjected. Rising a little from her seat, she fixed Charlotte with her most penetrating and, thought Mr. Collins, her most dignified stare. "Hm, yes. Rather plain, not like my Anne, but then a vicar should always have a plain wife."

William had never felt so pleased with his wife's plainness. His chest swelling with pride, he turned to Charlotte and noted with approval that she had kept her eyes fixed humbly on the exquisite carpet beneath her feet.

"It is an honor to meet you, Lady Catherine," she said with a demure curtsey.

"Sit," Lady Catherine said.

William and Charlotte hastened to obey her command. William had always admired how direct his patroness was. "Mrs. Collins is most impressed with all the improvements you suggested for our home," he said as he lowered himself into a chair. He had not realized before how excited hie was for this audience, but now his heart was pounding like a drum.

"Are you indeed?" Lady Catherine asked, looking at Charlotte with new interest.

"I am," Charlotte said, just barely making eye contact. "The house is quite charming, no doubt due to your advice to Mr. Collins." William smiled at his wife's kind words. To think he had worried that she might not appreciate her new dwelling.

"I do take a great interest in the affairs of the neighborhood," Lady Catherine said, leaning back in her chair and nodding slightly, as though approving of her own words ( _As well she should,_ William thought). "Tell me," the great lady continued, "how old are you?"

* * *

Charlotte stared for a few seconds before responding. Did Lady Catherine _really_ just ask her for her age? When she was clearly above twenty, no longer a young woman by any reckoning? Charlotte did not like to call such a great lady impertinent, but…

"I am twenty-seven years old," she replied very sweetly.

"Good heavens," Lady Catherine exclaimed. "You are several years older than your husband!"

"It seems so," Charlotte said, though she cringed inwardly at the comment.

"I suppose you must be very grateful to Mr. Collins for rescuing you from spinsterhood."

Another long pause as Charlotte stared, horrified, at the woman before her. Yet as she processed Lady Catherine's aggressive words, and as she stole a glance at the man seated beside her, it occurred to her that the question hit very near the truth. "It is a great relief to me and my family," she finally (and truthfully) replied.

"Have you many siblings?"

"Two sisters and two brothers."

"Too large a brood," Lady Catherine sniffed. "But at least it is balanced. I do appreciate a balanced family."

Charlotte merely smiled and nodded in seeming agreement. She did not know how to respond to this very rich and very rude woman. She glanced at the daughter, Anne de Bourgh, and noticed with slight alarm that she did not seem to be attending to the conversation at all, but rather stared into space with a somewhat sad, vacant expression. How concerning.

Lady Catherine was now relaying some neighborhood gossip to Mr. Collins, who gazed at her with undisguised adoration. Charlotte imagined him bestowing that same adoration upon _her,_ and the thought almost made her laugh. Long before she married him, he had lavished all the affection he had upon this pretentious old woman and her sickly daughter. That fact spoke volumes about his sense, or lack thereof.

William did not speak much on their walk home, and Charlotte worried that he might be displeased with her. Had she not behaved with the proper deference? Had she neglected some nicety and caused offense to Lady Catherine?

They were almost at their door when he finally turned to her and said, "My dear, I was most pleased with your behavior this evening. You evidently know full well how to comport yourself in the presence of your betters."

"Thank you, Mr. Collins," Charlotte said with a small, triumphant smile. She had succeeded in her one goal for the evening: meeting her silly husband's expectations.

* * *

Smiling down at his wife, William wondered for the second time that day if he should apologize for his selfish love-making from the previous night. But his face grew red at the thought, and he very quickly (and uncharacteristically) decided that he should hold his tongue.

 **And there you have it, the first meeting of Charlotte and Lady Catherine! I hope you enjoyed it; please let me know what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the long delay! I really appreciated all the support from you lovely reviewers, and I hope to update more quickly for you in the future. Huge thanks to fis, austenfan1, TheOtherMissOgden, Happywife, Ebzenka, Nellie86, and easilyaddictedgirl for reviewing the previous chapter! **

**Chapter 4:**

William was not a gifted preacher, and Charlotte was not surprised. "Christianity and Domesticity," over which he had groaned and sweated all week long, would never grace a bookshelf with Fordyce's sermons.

She could feel her eyes glaze over as he spoke, and she tried to surreptitiously shake herself awake. It would not do for her husband to look out from his pulpit and see his own wife dozing away.

"The journey of the Christian home is a pilgrimage, a peregrination, from the circumstanced life of self-interest, which is the natural state of a man alienated from his Divine Progenitor, to the expansive love of our Lord Jesus, which every member of a household must develop within their own souls and model to one another – this being the same love that the disciples themselves modeled, nay, exuded in the blessed days of the early apostolic church…"

Charlotte had a vague sense that his words were theologically sound and probably helpful to those of his parishioners whose attention he still commanded, but his delivery was so lackluster and his voice so soporific that she really couldn't take in anything he was saying. Something about Jesus and love and the household. It all sounded sufficiently biblical, but did he have to _drone_ so?

She glanced at the parishioners around her. Sure enough, their eyelids were drooping. Well, at least boring preaching was not unique to William Collins. Many churchgoing country folk suffered through mind-numbing sermons every Sunday morning. Charlotte had to stifle a smile as she thought of the secret games she and her sister Maria used to play in church: sneaking little balls inside and kicking them back and forth to one another, coughing at strategic times in an attempt to perturb the preacher. Yes, they were quite sinful, but all those sins made for good memories.

Oh dear, her mind was drifting again. What was William talking about? She made an effort to pay attention, caught the word "consubstantiation," and decided that no, she would not be listening any further.

* * *

As they walked the very short distance between the church and their home, Charlotte's hand placed gently on William's arm (very gently – as though she really had no wish to make contact at all), he wondered if he should ask her about her conduct in church. From his vantage point, it had appeared that she dozed off for the last twenty minutes of his homily.

But maybe she really had been paying attention. After all, it was often the practice of elegant young women to feign indifference towards things spiritual in nature.

But, he thought to himself, Charlotte really was not very elegant.

But perhaps she was aspiring to elegance. After seeing Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her well-bred daughter, Charlotte hoped to improve herself, and was crudely mimicking the practices of higher society.

Surely she wasn't _really_ that bored at his sermon.

"We are to dine at Rosings Park tonight, are we not?" Charlotte asked as they stepped inside their home. She rested her quizzical eyes on her husband as she untied her bonnet strings.

This question pleased William for several reasons. First of all, it showed a healthy interest in his esteemed patroness. Secondly, it confirmed that she had been listening to him at breakfast that morning, while he spoke eloquently (and at great length) about their invitation to dinner and the possibility that Lady Catherine would reveal further information regarding the possibility of a visit from her nephew, Mr. Darcy. Thirdly, it supported his earlier supposition that his wife had feigned boredom in church to mimic those more elegant than she.

"Indeed we are," he said, perhaps sounding a little too enthusiastic in his immense relief. Now that he knew the cause of her inattention, he could gently correct her, as any good husband should. "Oh, my dear, please wait a moment."

* * *

Charlotte had quickly turned away, hoping to escape to her sitting room and pass a few pleasant hours in solitude, but she looked back to her husband at his request. "Is something amiss?" She silently prayed that whatever he had to say would end within two sentences.

It seemed that the Lord elected to ignore her prayer.

William took a deep breath before launching into a speech of astonishing length and detail. "As you know, my dear, God has ordained the various strata of society for our mutual benefit, so that the upper echelons, the most exalted men and women, may bless the lowly with their beneficence, and so that the lowly may perform the tasks which are necessary for the maintenance of higher society. Indeed, the different segments not only benefit one another materially, but also by behaving as spiritual exemplars for one another.

"Thus, persons such as our most gracious patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, illustrate for us, their benefactees, if you will, the virtues of magnanimity and elegance. Persons such as you and I can of course exhibit those same virtues to those beneath ourselves, but towards people who are accustomed to consider themselves above us in society, we have the most blessed opportunity to demonstrate true gratitude and humility of spirit.

"Yet this is not to say that we must exactly mimic all the qualities of our betters, for the elegance of a duke may appear as impudent posturing by a ploughman. For you, my dear Charlotte, having been raised in a rather limited and unvarying society, there is no doubt a temptation – sprung from the purest of impulses, I am sure – to take on more of the characteristics of our benefactress, and other members of her circles, than is appropriate. Thus, while I admire your urge to imitate your betters in all things, I must advise you to do away with certain airs that, in one such as yourself, are simply unbecoming. When a great lady lowers her eyes in church, sighs, and perhaps nods her head, it is perceived as genteel – but for a parson's wife, such behavior appears insolent to those who behold it."

He paused and smiled at her. Charlotte required a few moments to tease out the gist of his speech. At last, she frowned and asked, "Did you compare me to a ploughman?"

William looked confused. "Did I?"

"I believe so."

"Well, that is no import. I merely wanted to convey my husbandly rebuke to you before we parted ways for the afternoon."

"I'm afraid the substance of your rebuke was lost on me." Charlotte had not followed his speech well at all, in fact, and was growing rather concerned now that the word "rebuke" had been uttered.

"Oh. Um. Well, I must request that you listen more attentively in church." He looked uncomfortable speaking so bluntly; it obviously was not his usual way.

Oh dear. Had he really noticed? Of course he had. He was bound to notice anything that insulted his vanity. Slowly, the import of his long-winded speech penetrated her mind, and she realized that he had yet again drawn attention to her lowly origins. His insistence on that fact galled her, and she wondered if she should express her indignation. Surely no woman could endure a marriage in which her husband viewed her with such contempt.

But, Charlotte told herself, at least she had a husband, and was no longer a burden to her family. That thought calmed her somewhat, so that she could look William in the eye and say, "I will of course submit to your wishes." Giving him a small nod, she vanished into her sitting room and closed the door swiftly behind her.

* * *

William's rebuke had obtained the desired result, yet as he sat within his study and selected a volume of sermons for his afternoon reading, he felt that something had gone wrong. His wife's assurance of submission had not felt particularly submissive. If anything, it had seemed scornful.

Did Charlotte scorn him? His fair cousins certainly did. But his fair cousins presumably had other prospects in life; Charlotte had only him. Why would she scorn him? Was she not grateful?

He leaned back in his armchair and frowned at the doorway. It was not only the possibility of scorn that disturbed him. The word the Charlotte had chosen, "submit," irked him exceedingly. His father had been a man who demanded submission from his household, and William was not sure he wanted to be like his father. Yes, he knew the words of the Bible: "Wives, submit to your husbands," but he was not quite sure how that command should be applied in his own home.

An unexpected thought struck him. Perhaps this was a matter for Charlotte to consider. As _she_ was the wife, _she_ could no doubt best determine what constituted wifely submission. Perhaps he should to her and ask that she apply her mind to the question.

William was rather pleased with this idea. Here was an opportunity for Charlotte to exercise her spiritual muscles. Judging by the frequency with which she ignored him and disappeared into her sitting room, she must have a streak of independence, and this Biblical assignment would allow her to join her husband in furthering the spiritual maturity of their household.

He had vowed not to disturb Charlotte in her sitting room, so he quickly scribbled down his request on a piece of paper. Sliding it under the sitting room door, he hastily retreated back to his own study, almost giddy with excitement.

* * *

Charlotte read the scrap of paper with a feeling of impending doom.

 _My dear wife,_

 _I request that you apply yourself to determine the meaning of Ephesians 5:22, in which the apostle Paul writes, "Wives, submit to your husbands," as I believe such study will enrich marital life for the both of us._

 _Your loving husband,_

 _William_

"This is a punishment," Charlotte said to herself, crumpling the paper and tossing it into the corner. Aside from shaming her with his condescending language, her husband was now treating her like a child and demanding that she learn proper submission. She had hoped he would not be a tyrant when they were wed, but evidently she was wrong.

Staring at the wadded paper in the corner, Charlotte asked herself how she could endure such a dull, petty dictator of a husband. She knew Elizabeth, her most trusted friend and guide, would not tolerate it. Elizabeth had already refused to tolerate it when she turned down William's proposal. Charlotte wished that she could ask Elizabeth for advice now, but she knew that it would be wrong to speak ill of her husband in a letter, and any earnest request for advice would certainly involve some lamentation over her ridiculous spouse.

At any rate, even if she could not seek counsel, she decided to write to Elizabeth immediately. Her dearest friend had promised to visit after the wedding, and Charlotte needed her now more than ever.

 **Yes, Elizabeth's visit is fast approaching. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I hope you stick around for the next one!**


End file.
